


The Blue Light

by Persipnei



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: (none of this happens between Eugene and Snafu), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beating, Blackmail, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Meetings, I feel like I overtagged this but better be safe than sorry, Intimidation, M/M, Physical Abuse, References to Apathy, References to Depression, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Subways, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persipnei/pseuds/Persipnei
Summary: Eugene brushed his fingers over his temple, playing with his curls. His touch was soothing, made Snafu want to ask him to continue. His eyelids became heavy and he nudged his jaw with his nose, squeezing his hip.Then Eugene said close to his ear, above the music and yet sounding so tender and intimate: “You are lonely.” he couldn't possibly deny that, could he? “I am lonely, too.”ORThis is weird, ugly and confusing. And edgy, as well.





	The Blue Light

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first of all I want to apologize. I started writing this when I got pretty sad over nothing. And then I continued to write at night while I spent the whole day studying for the exam I did the other day. So this is not very hopeful. Or all that rewarding to read. I only wanted to throw all those feelings into something that came out as a little ugly. So, if you would rather read something else, I totally understand. It's not on a similar style as my other stories that are a little more positive and even humourous at some point (or so I hope!).
> 
> Second, I wanted to write a little more about two prompts I got on my blog. The first one was Eugene and Snafu [meeting in the train](https://persipneiwrites.tumblr.com/post/182855468118/hi-i-really-enjoy-your-works-so-if-you-want-i) and the second was to write about [Merriell having a twin](https://persipneiwrites.tumblr.com/post/184302872363/maythefirthbewithyou-asked-merriell-has-a-twin) that would resemble, somehow, Elliot. The thing is that I have never watched Mr. Robot. Only a few videos. And I like that idea of talking to the audience. Merriell's brother is NOTHING like Elliot. They only have the same haircut, tbh. 
> 
> Third, I always write about Snafu's family as being the same in every AU that I create. But in this one he actually knew his father and has a twin brother. 
> 
> Now, I hope you'll enjoy it. If possible!

**NOVEMBER**

If Snafu had to narrate his story with his own words, it would begin with a simple: _there's not much you should know about me_.

Maybe he would continue saying his name. _My name is Merriell Shelton_. Then he would have to add right away: _But everybody calls me Snafu. Maybe because at some point, I started to introduce myself with that name._ _It makes it easier. They always ask: “What kind of name is Merriell? Like Muriel?” “No”, I answer. “It's nothing like like Muriel”. But they always insist: “Then, is it like Merrill?” I just look down at the patch on my blue vest. MERRIELL. Not Muriel, not Merrill. I smile and shrug. I am there to do my job, then go back home. I am not a chatty cashier. No one likes a chatty cashier. We've been warned._

They would know, then, about his occupation. He could also add the fact that he works at a shitty grocery store. And that the supermarket that opened not very far from them six months ago was clearly winning the battle as they kept losing costumers. They would fire him in the following months, he was sure of that. So he would let them know. _I've been working there for almost two years, now. It's the longest I've ever made it in a job_. They would assume that he is not very responsible. That would be just fine. _I don't like my job. I don't like my flat. I wouldn't like my friends, if I still had some. I don't like my life, and I guess I don't like myself all that much, either_.

He remembered his cousin saying that people like sad stories. He would quote her. _As Lulu told me once, people like tragedies because we like to remember that sadness is a common disease. No one is immune to it. And that sometimes good people get bad things. It's just how life works_. And maybe Snafu would hide the fact that, probably, he deserved to be this sad. That maybe he deserved his tragedy. _It's been seven years since I saw her for the last time. She still lives in New Orleans. I didn't want to stay there anymore after Mamaw died. She asked me not to leave, but I did_. Those who heard his voice would be able to recognize the regret and worry, but also the apathy of not wanting to do anything about it. And he would have to excuse himself. _She has a boyfriend. She is doing well_. _Sometimes she calls. Sometimes I pick the phone. Sometimes we talk_.

Then, there would be light. And color. And a solid picture along the constant and infuriating sound of the inside of a crowded subway car. But Snafu would be a blurr. A shapeless mass both on paper and on a screen. _I like taking subway,_ he would confess, in hopes to stay away from going any deeper into his family. _I read once that people are something like social animals. That we need to talk and interact with each other to function and have a “normal life”. Here is where that theory comes to die. This is where no one looks at anyone. A second of eye contact and you might end up forced to offer your seat to those who might need it more than you. This is where no one wants to talk to anyone, fearing that many could easily become predators. This is where we are all forced to share the very same space while wanting nothing but be away from every single one of them. Some of us are tired, sleepy, angry or simply want to have enough space to breathe. I like taking the subway, not because I want to be surrounded by people, but because I finally found someone to look at_.

And finally, acts would speak all by themselves. His face would be clear and sharp now because he has a purpose. Or a motivation. Something that made him more human or far more likeable. Someone people could empathize with. _He's beautiful_. They wouldn't see him just yet. He would build expectation. The endeared look in his eyes would help them to picture, perhaps, the most handsome stranger one could ever imagine. _We've been taking the same train back home for two weeks. He's the best part of my day_. Maybe that would make him sound like a complete creep. But... He never did anything to give the boy a bad time. He was pleased by only looking at him. His palms became moist and his knees all weak just to think about talking to him. About hearing his voice. Snafu was desperate to learn his name. But he wouldn't share with anyone. That information would be _his_.

He easily became an unreliable narrator, didn't he? One that hides secrets and only speaks whenever it's convenient for him.

Snafu shifted a little bit on his seat. The man on his right sighed, displeased that he dared to even _move_. He rubbed his nose and crossed his arms. If he had to distract them, he would say that he was gathering courage to talk to him. But he knew he wouldn't do it. The boy was tired. He was always quiet, pale and looked especially skinny. That parka he always wore was baggy all over his shoulders and chest and filled with air when he sat down. It deflated during the following stops until he got off the subway.

Being merciful enough, he would finally show them the young man. He usually thought about him as _the boy_. An endearment that had plenty to do with the innocence that came with dozzing off while being in a public transport and far less with his age. Snafu could only assume that he was in his early thirties just like he was.

But it was that perfect picture of exhaustion and with his red hair clinging onto the moist and cold window behind him that made him think of naivety. Sometimes, when Snafu tilted his head up, he could even see his own reflection over the glass. The _closest_ he would ever be.

They would _have_ to appreciate that sight. How the boy held his left wrist with his right hand, keeping anyone from even daring to touch his bag. His ankles crossed, his knees spreading more the less control he had over his body. Snafu licked his lips and dragged his teeth over the lower one. The subway train stopped abruptly and the boy opened his eyes. Snafu looked down. He played with his thumbs and forced himself to not look too nervous or too guilty.

To trick them, Snafu would perhaps tell the only story that made him look brave. Or like he dared to interact with him. _Last Thrusday he stood in front of me; there weren't any empty seats left. He had to hold onto the handrail. He was reading a book: Strangers on a Train. Now, that's funny, huh? Too bad I never read Patricia Highsmith but I was tempted to, so we would have something to talk about. Maybe I would say that I loved the author. Maybe I would lie just to have something in common with him. Maybe he would talk back to me. Instead, when he turned the page and briefly looked at me, I looked down, at his shoes. That made him curious enough to see that the laces of his left sneaker were all loose. He thanked me with a little smile. It made me feel happy_.

And then he noticed that such anecdote would only make him look like he needed approval. So he stopped himself to think: _do they matter?_ A they would always be an hypothetical viewer, listener or reader. A they he _invented_ so he would have someone to talk to. Someone he didn't push away when he clearly needed the company.

Snafu easily reached the conclusion that he wouldn't make a good narrator. Or an interesting protagonist. And that his story wouldn't be worth anyone's time or effort. So he decided to cut that foolish game. It would be far easier to pick his phone and call Lou or Roe. Tell them about the boy he saw almost every day on the subway. They would probably encourage him to speak to him.

He must be feeling pretty fucking lonely to do that kind of shit. After a small groan, he leaned forward, with his elbows over his knees. Maybe this was the perfect moment to look back and consider changing his life, his habits, his _loneliness_. He just played a whole fucking game to be able to talk about this boy with someone that was entirely fictional. Like he had an audience. Come on! There's a line between imagination and insanity and he _shouldn't_ cross it.

He rubbed his eyes and started to play with his necklace. He had the habit to let it rest over his chin, pushing his jaw forward, feeling the now warm silver sourface of the locket rest over his skin. He finally looked forward once again. The boy was looking at him. He blinked, surprised that he got caught. He was now holding the book over his backpack. He stopped reading because he got distracted. Because he was looking at _him_.

Snafu was sure he must have looked like a complete _dumbass_. Playing with his necklace like a fucking child. He quickly pressed his lips into a thin line and the necklace fell over his chest; over his padded jacket. The boy smiled _coyly_. Snafu felt a warmth his sternum and that quickly went up towards his neck, like an invisible hand wanting to strangle him. He parted his lips and then the boy looked down, quick as that.

 _Holy fucking shit_. Now, that's something he would absolutely share with _them_. Perhaps simply as a way to justify his miserable existence and his slightly creepy crush. _The day that the boy on the subway smiled at me_. He sure leads a _pathetic_ life if that was the highlight of his day. Of his week!

He felt like he would remember that moment for years. Until the very end of his life, if he was lucky enough. The boy with that soft teal light over his cheeks that made the redness of his hair a little dull but surely enhanced the color of his jeans and scarf. That little smile over his thin and pale lips. His thumbs brushed over the corners of the pages of his book. He smiled at him twice and it was complicated for Snafu to not feel stupid and like a stalker.

Poor kid, he should leave him alone. Mind his own fucking business.

And because he did so while trying his best, he missed the three times more the boy looked at him until he arrived to his destination. Then Snafu couldn't help himself. The boy left his book over his seat, by his side. He was using his phone. Probably texting a friend. His parents. His _girlfriend_. Boys like that don't walk around and stay single for long. _Look at him_.

It was fucking ridiculous.

They stopped and Snafu bounced his left knee, getting stressed because the boy was still not standing up. Until he did so, quickly and running out of the car with the very last warning. Snafu cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, having the excuse to follow him with his eyes. The boy quickly turned around and stepped forward the now moving car. He could read his lips saying two simple words: _No, wait!_

What? What happened? He turned around and saw the book right there, with cold blue covers and two dark stains that he could only imagine that were the two silhouettes of the strangers. Snafu felt his palms become all wet once again. He brushed them over the fabric of his sweatpants and doubted for a couple of seconds. No one took his seat. The ones on each side were empty, as well. Only an elderly woman stayed there, on that row of four. She seemed to be distracted. He finally stood up and doubted a couple of times. The man that was previously sighed because he moved was looking at him. He could feel his eyes right on his back. But honestly, he didn't care. _Fuck him_.

Snafu took the book and put inside of his bag.

*** * ***

He took a shower, wore his pajama pants and sat down on the bed. Snafu rested his chin over his shoulder and looked at the book over the nightstand. How weird would it be for him to imagine that the boy lived there with him? He was... _lonely_. And he wanted to talk to someone, sometimes. Other times he remembered how impossible it became for him to talk to people and he only wished to be left alone. What he wanted, he rejected. And what rejected him, he wanted it.

Always the fucking same.

Maybe it was for the best that he would never exchange a single word with him. He would probably mess it up. Ruin it. Make him think he has been stalking him. He wouldn't do that. He might be a bastard, but he had _limits_. Snafu sighed and folded one arm under his head and began to smoke with his free hand, trying to resist the temptation to go through the pages of the book. Try to find some sort of note or anything that could give away more information about him.

He would make a terrible detective, so why even bother?

His fingers itched and he really wanted to know _more_ about him.

The battle was lost almost immediately. He found _nothing_. No notes, no tickets that would use to remind him where he left it off. Just a few dog-ears each twenty or thirty pages that let him understand that he _only_ read that book on the subway. He was about to finish it.

Snafu decided to finish the cigarette and go to bed before he would lose his goddamn mind.

*** * ***

The novel was only a little more than two hundred pages and it still weighted like a slab inside of his bag. He could barely stop thinking about it while he worked. He scanned grocery items — _...beep! ...beep! ...beep!_ — and tried to keep his mind from wandering towards the immediate future. How would he talk to him? Would he look like a complete creep? People usually felt weirded out by the very intrusive way he had to look at. _Stare_ , practically. Doesn't help either that his eyes are _quite_ big. A few coworkers even told him to _cut it out_ , being unable to stop fidgeting when he barely even blinked anymore.

He couldn't help it, that's just the way he looks at people.

Snafu didn't want to scare him. He would make sure to tone it down. Perhaps even try to be friendly. Or non-threatening, at least. You never know when you might bump into some crazy bastard ready to give you a terrible time. Snafu had to deal with a few of those and it's truly _not_ great.

He decided to not sit down. The doors closed and he knew he was three stations away from the boy. So the best thing he could do was to calm down, breathe evenly and force his legs to stay strong. It was just a book. He will give it to him, the boy will smile and then he would move on. He won't even remember him tomorrow. And Snafu will have to be _okay_ with that.

Two more. Maybe the devastation of knowing that he would become no one to that boy would be what finally push him to call his cousins. Lou told him that Roe broke up with his girlfriend, Renée, a couple of years ago. And that he moved back to the States. Now he was living in Philadelphia. With his new _boyfriend_.

And to think that as teenager Snafu always made fun of him because he never dated _anyone_. Now he was trying to catch up, it seems. He could pick the phone and arrange a day to see him. Meet the boyfriend. But he didn't know how to do that, anymore. There was shame in all the time he decided to keep himself away from his family. And Roe always respected his loneliness more than Lou did. Because his cousin Lulu was _noisy_ like that.

One more. Snafu was pretty damn sure that he was using his family as an excuse to not think about what was coming. And that made him feel a little bit dirty. Was this any better than the idea of narrating his life to a misterious figure? Probably not.

He simply needed to talk to someone. But he didn't dare, anymore. And he didn't even know why. He has been stupid enough to lock himself inside of a cage of glass.

The doors opened for the third time and Snafu tensed visibly. He raised his eyes and tried to find the boy, anxiously. He looked as tired as usual. His job must be exhausting. Snafu would want him to find something better. Something that would allow to take care of himself with far more dedication. And he said so while he barely ate or slept enough because he was _hoarding_ bad habits.

The boy finally sat down with a small sigh and left the backpack on the floor, between his feet. Snafu decided to do it, already. The sooner, the better. If the boy got nervous and looked grossed out in some sort of way, he would get out of the train and take the next one. And change his schedule a little bit so he would never see him again. His fingers were trembling lightly. Fuck, since when he became such a coward? Back in the day, flirting and seducing was _easy_. Now it's awkward, and he only shares his bed with people who are as lonely and as miserable as he is. There's no thrill and no passion.

Truth was that he had so little to offer. But he would try.

Snafu was sure that he would leave the print of his palm on the cover of the book because his hands were sweating again. They always did when he was any close to the boy. He was now removing his scarf. Something he didn't usually do. He was always cold. Tonight he looked a little hot, with his cheeks warm. He had to _run_.

He extended the book, giving it back to him, without saying a single word. The boy blinked as soon as he could recognize the cover his _lost_ book. Snafu's heart was about to give up at any moment. Drop dead right there. _Look at him, holy shit_.

“Oh.” he mumbled, finally taking the book. His thumb almost touched Snafu's fingers. “Thank you.”

Snafu was still unable to speak. He nodded a little bit.

“I thought I lost it.” the boy continued and Snafu didn't really know what to do. “I was about to finish it. It was so frustrating.” and he smiled. It was the third time he smiled at him and Snafu was not sure he could survive a fourth time.

He had to force his words out of his mouth, sounding far calmer than he really was: “It's alright.”

The boy nodded, still looking grateful. And then, it had to be over, right? Snafu was thinking about moving to another car, after that. But the boy tried once again with a careful: “I'm Eugene.” now it was him who extended his hand towards Snafu.

He swallowed and took him a couple of seconds to react. He held his hand and squeezed it. He will probably die if the boy — _Eugene_ — cleaned his palm on his parka. “My name is Merriell.” and that was the first time he introduced himself using his real name after a very long time. That made him feel desperate and sound so stupid. “My friends call me Snafu.”

“Do they?” Eugene raised his eyebrow, perhaps not expecting him to have that kind of nickname. Maybe he didn't understand what it meant. It would be like naming your good friend _walking disaster_. Not very flattering but accurate enough.

 _If I still had some, they would_. “Yeah.”

“Feels fair to call you Merriell until we become friends, don't you think?”

 _Fuck me, you are sweet, as well?_ Snafu felt like a miserable dog that hasn't been treated with kindness for so long. Now he was willing to take anything from a complete stranger. That was not very wise, was it? Probably not. And yet, there he stood. He nodded like the fool that he was.

Eugene looked away for a moment before he shifted, visibly trying to keep this conversation going even if Snafu was well aware that he was ruining every single chance by acting so damn weird and silent. “I've seen you... taking this train for a while and...” _Two weeks. This is the beginning of the third_ , Snafu thought. “You come from work?”

“ _Yes_.” he said curtly. His brain felt like a thick substance melting inside of his skull more than a functional organ.

“Alright.” Eugene cleared his throat.

Snafu curled his fingers around the handrail and squeezed until his knuckles became all pale. _Calm down. Talk to him. Don't ruin this_. “Do you?”

“I, mhm... _Yeah_. We could say so.” Eugene answered.

“Must be tough.” he blurted out.

“Huh?” the redhead tilted his head.

“Your job. Must be tough. You always look very tired.” _And thin, and like you don't sleep enough_. But he already made that sound like he has been observing him for quite a while, and he doubted that could be flattering in any sort of way.

Snafu thought about apologizing or insulting himself to make Eugene feel a little better but the boy whispered: “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Somethin' better will come up.” that's what Lou used to say when he complained about his job. It's been a while since he heard her voice. _You really should call. You have something new to explain her, now. Something good_.

“Hopefully.” he smiled once again, way smaller, and nodded.

The girl sitting next to Eugene stood up after he picked her purse and wore her jacket. Eugene shifted, silently asking Snafu to sit down by his side. Ignoring his nervous heart, he did as he was encouraged to do.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I work at a grocery store.” that doesn't make him sound interesting, clever or like he has any sort of ambition. And that is just fine, because it's the truth. He was not a scientist or an artist that couldn't find a job. This wasn't something that simply came up until he found his way into success. Not everybody makes it. Not everybody has something they can excell at. Most of them have normal lives, and some of them were perfectly happy. _The lucky ones_. Eugene asked where, exactly, and Snafu answered with the same even voice. He wasn't ashamed. He just wished Eugene could see him as someone mysterious and fascinating.

“Is your boss an asshole?” Eugene suddenly asked. He continued to smile.

“Aren't they all?” Snafu snorted, unable to help himself.

Eugene chuckled and bit his lower lip, looking around to not draw much attention to himself. That nasty teal light of the subway was taking away all the redness of his cheeks. He would like to see him blush. To see those lips under a natural light. “Yeah, mine is an asshole, too.”

Snafu would love to ask him more about his job, but he didn't look like he wanted to speak about it. He would want to know more about him. Earn his trust, become friends with him. He would like to have Eugene's number on his phone. Be able to call him when he didn't dare to reach out for Lou or Roe. Cry on his shoulder when he regretted ever pushing them away and not knowing how to make things any better.

He wanted to have someone so he cut quit stupid habits like narrating his goddamn life like someone was _listening_. And he wanted Eugene to be that someone.

“Where are you from?” he dared to ask.

“Alabama.” Eugene answered.

“I'm from the South, too.”

“I can tell.” he sounded so kind. So fucking _genuine_ that his lungs were about to fail, next. First the brain, now the lungs. Won't take long until Eugene goes for the heart. “Where, exactly?”

“New Orleans.”

“I've never been there. I'd like too, though.” Snafu thought it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go back if that implied seeing Eugene there, as well.

They didn't speak about families, nor they asked. Snafu would have wanted to ask him about his parents and siblings. But he was not willing to answer that question if Eugene tried to ask him the very same. And he knew that the family was just an excuse to find out if he had a signficant other. Because, _yes_. Eugene was beautiful, kind and he was also a redhead. _His type_.

Eugene played with his scarf before he put it around his neck. He was going to leave and Snafu already missed him. But then he doubted and rested his hands over his knees. “Look, I...” he began. “I don't usually do this, but...” Snafu blinked and continued to look at him. “Would you like to... have a drink, maybe? I don't know if... Maybe it's a little lat—”

“ _Yes_.” Now, _that_ was exactly what made him sound desperate. How _quickly_ he said it.

But, fuck it. It's not like he had any dignity left. He wanted to have a drink with Eugene, so he would just do _that_.

*** * ***

There has to be a catch.

Snafu was not completely oblivious to flirting. Eugene was quite terrible at it, but he could tell what was going on. Eugene smiled at him, leaving his hand over his forearm or knee, depending on his position. He took him to a club with an icy neon lights and fancy people. He has never been here. In fact, he has never been to a place like that in his life. He doubted he even fit with his sweatpants, his hoodie and his tangled curls. But no one said anything. And he didn't care as long as Eugene kept talking close to his ear with a hopeful smile on his lips.

Why would a boy like Eugene want to get involved with someone like him in any sort of way? He should have taken his book and that's about it. And because he was unable to see anything good enough in himself to catch Eugene's attention he assumed that he was either in a failing relationship or that he was trying to _explore_. Maybe both. Maybe he was sick and tired of his girlfriend and wanted to get _dicked down_. A little crude, but it had to be _that_.

The question was: was he willing to do that? To accept those terms he made up?

Well. _Yes_. If it was only sex what he wanted, then Snafu didn't mind. Because he _also_ wanted it. Was that _all_ that he wanted it? Well, maybe not. He didn't know Eugene. But he wanted to get to discover more about him. Maybe he idealized the boy. Maybe it was on him for wanting to see the perfect chance for salvation in someone that only happened to take the same subway. He must be so alone to keep doing these things.

Eugene looked around, briefly, probably feeling rejected. Or maybe he was anxious about being seen with someone else. He was about to step back when Snafu wrapped his arm around his waist and kept him close. Eugene brushed his fingers over his temple, playing with his curls. His touch was _soothing_ , made Snafu want to ask him to continue. His eyelids became heavy and he nudged his jaw with his nose, squeezing his hip.

Then Eugene said close to his ear, above the music and yet sounding so tender and intimate: “You are lonely.” he couldn't possibly deny that, could he? “I am lonely, too.”

Eugene stood a little closer to Snafu's stool and with those flashing lights, he could see something hiding behind his eyes. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but it looked like sadness. Maybe Eugene was not cheating. Maybe he was truly that alone and just as desperate as he was to feel like he part of someone else's life.

And yeah, that was more than _enough_ for him.

Snafu kissed him, forcing himself to not think of how lucky he was or how sad Eugene must feel to do something like this. By now, he simply wanted to enjoy it. How soft his lips felt, how he grabbed his hoodie, accidentally pulling onto Snafu's necklace underneath and keeping him as close as possible.

*** * ***

He asked Eugene even three times if he wanted this. First before they left the club. Then, when he opened the door of his building. And third, right before he interrupted him with a deep kiss, pushing him towards the nearest wall. Then he had to shut up to not ruin it.

And by the way Eugene acted, confident enough in what he was doing and for sure more than he did back at the club, he assumed, once again, that Eugene was cheating. Not on a girl, but on a boy. Maybe he was absolutely done with his boyfriend and needed something different, tonight. Maybe the guy was an asshole and he neglected Eugene. Maybe Eugene was truly a dickhead and he just saw the very best in him because he wanted to fuck him and because he wanted him to pull him out of that miserable life he was leading.

But he pushed him once again and Snafu fell over his bed, leaning on his forearms, to look up at him. Eugene dropped on his knees and Merriell didn't say anything to stop him. He was willing to be selfish. He only raised his waist when Eugene pulled his sweatpants down his legs. He caressed his hips with his soft hands kissed his lower stomach. Merriell raised his hoodie to give him more skin to kiss, even if he wanted him to go in the opposite direction. He could feel Eugene's amused smile against his flesh as he peppered kisses all over his abdomen before he began to move lower.

When Eugene took him in his mouth, he was already hard. His tongue was warm and moist and _soft_. He brushed his thumbs over his hipbones, tenderly, sucking him slow but deep enough to not have to use his hand to compensate. Snafu rolled his eyes back and dragged his smooth nails over Eugene's scalp. He forced himself to support all of his weight over one forearm to be able to look at Eugene, past the folds of his hoodie. In that yellow light of his room, Eugene's hair looked on fire. And it was gorgeous. Far more beautiful than it looked back in the subway or the club. Snafu felt the delicate and thin texture of his locks when he pulled onto them lightly. Eugene moaned around his cock and Snafu flared his nostrils, taking a sharp and deep breath.

His nose is big, there's no denying in that. Maybe it was the first thing he noticed. The same tip that now brushed over his lower stomach was all red as he sniffed. That day he wasn't wearing his scarf and sneezed from time to time. Snafu remembered smiling each time he did so.

A moan escaped from his lips and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

He was good. _So good_. And maybe it was a terrible idea to make any conclusion about someone's character during a blowjob, but something in the back of his head told him that this boy was worth it. Any man can fall in love while getting their dick sucked. Snafu was truly not any better.

After squeezing the back of his nape, tenderly, he began to push him away. Eugene moved back right away. He wiped his mouth. “You don't like it?”

He would need to have two row of sharp teeth like a bloody shark for him to not enjoy it. “I do.” he confessed. “I just...” he cleared his throat. If he doesn't ask for it, for sure he won't get it. “I wanna fuck you. Can I?” There, he said it.

Eugene blinked a couple of times. Was it so surprising considering how close his dick _still_ was to his face? The redhead licked his lips for a moment, like he wanted to take the good decision. He nodded once. Then twice before he crawled on top of the bed, on top of him. As Eugene took his fluffy and navy jumper off, Snafu got rid off his hoodie and kicked his sneakers off while still being under the other boy. Eugene undid the buttons of his shirt and he thought that blue was a color that did not fit him. Neither as a light reflecting over his face or as a fabric wrapping his body. It took away the warmth of his hair and his eyes and made his skin look paler. Like he was trapped in a never-ending moment of sadness. He should wear green, brown, maroon, perhaps even mustard and orange. Everything just to made him look like the young and kind boy that Snafu was _sure_ that he was.

Snafu spread his fingers over Eugene's chest before he moved them towards his sides. He looked _malnourished_. His ribs were tight against his skin, with barely any flesh between them. The muscles were absolutely _gone_ , making his arms look frail. He was sure that if he pressed his thumbs against his hips a little too roughly, he would leave a mark. Snafu knew what it was to be a skinny guy. But this was was rather _unhealthy_.

The boy noticed how the attention he was getting changed. And he felt self-conscious. _No_. He didn't want him to feel bad about himself. Snafu kissed his neck and switched positions with Eugene. He untangled his legs from his sweatpants and kissed Eugene deeply before he flipped his necklace over his shoulder after it hit Eugene's chin. He looked especially good over his pillow, over his mattress. He would _cherish_ this view.

*** * ***

Snafu fucked him exactly how he has been wanting to ever since he saw him for the first time: deeply and taking his time.

But then it was _over_ , as he knew it had to be. He was still warm and moist. Eugene asked him if he could use his bathroom and Snafu nodded before he shifted to light a cigarette. He smoked while laying on his back, risking getting some burning ash on his eyes. Now this is when Eugene told him that he had fun, but that he had to leave. And then, maybe, he would see him in the subway once again, but it would be awkward. Because he would regret. Snafu didn't want to see him how he walked out of his life just like that.

 _Fucking Hell_. Snafu sat up and leaned his back against the headboard of his bed. He continued to smoke as he heard Eugene walking his way back to the bedroom after spending only a few minutes in there. He came back wearing his boxers, playing with his hands a bit. He was surely dying to dress up and get out.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow.” Snafu decided to make things easy for him. Open that door so he could walk out of the situation.

“Oh.” Eugene raised his eyes. “Yeah.” he quickly nodded. “Yes, of course. _Tomorrow_.” by the way he said it, Snafu was sure that he would never see Eugene once again. Like he would force himself to loss that train every single night to not bump into him. Seeing him getting dressed was the saddest thing he witnessed in a very long time.

*** * ***

He spent the whole day thinking about calling his cousins. He could simply say: _I met the boy of my life and I already lost him. Anyway, how's your life? Any wedding coming soon? Is your mother still alive?_ Roe, being the serious boy that he has always been, would perhaps ask him that how was he so sure that he lost him. And that he was well aware that the whole idea of marriage never looked all that appealing to him. Lou, on the other hand, would perhaps encourage him to try to meet Eugene once again and absolutely ignore any chance she had to talk about her mother.

But he didn't. Because before that he would have to excuse himself and the fact that he acted like a neglecting and distant asshole that has been unable to pick his phone to let them know he was _alright_.

That guilt was what helped him to cope with the anxiety that sat on his chest just to see that the hour of taking the subway home was approaching. He would never see Eugene again. And he would get the confirmation soon enough.

Or so he thought, because Eugene walked inside of the subway car and smiled when he saw him.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Tonight it was pretty crowded and he wouldn't be able to sit down with him. Snafu was tired, but the need to be close to Eugene was far too strong to compete with his aching back and weak legs. As soon as he stood up, a woman was quick to take his seat.

“Hey.” Eugene's smile was blue, because so was the nasty light of the subway. He was learning to hate cool colors on him. They took so much vitality away from the boy.

“Hey...” Snafu already felt breathless.

What could he say to him? What could they talk about? It was over, wasn't it? It didn't make any sense to stretch this. Snafu could become that crazy guy on the subway someone would sleep with _once_. Maybe he would become an anecdote to confess after a couple of drinks. But he wasn't, for sure, someone you would want to keep in your life. For plenty of obvious reasons. He could tell that he barely blinked or even breathed because Eugene tilted his head to his side and chuckled a little bit.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked, teasing him in a way that made Snafu want to melt.

He decided to confess: “I didn't think I would see you again.”

“Why?” Eugene surely looked curious.

Snafu shrugged and held the handrail, his pinky touching Eugene's thumb. The steel was warm and _disgusting_. Eugene's presence could truly turn something as infuriating as the subway into one dreamy experience.

“You are the loneliest boy in this city.” Eugene took a step forward because of the violent rocking of the car. “Right _after_ me.” he added.

And that casual remark truly broke Snafu's little and grey heart. Eugene looked like the kind of boy anyone could grow fond of. But once again, Snafu was forcing over his shoulders the weight of his loneliness and his great expectations.

“How can you tell that I am _so_ lonely?” Snafu decided to ask, distancing himself from the truth.

“I can see it in your eyes.”

And that should sound _lame_. Because Eugene was still pretty awkward at flirting. Last night, at the club, it was even painful to watch if it wasn't for the fact that he was absolutely endearing and because Snafu was pretty damn _easy_.

“You have the saddest eyes I've ever seen.” Eugene confessed. “The _biggest_.” a smile appeared over his lips once again. Snafu had to mirror it. The boy's warmth was contagious. It wasn't proper amusement. _Tenderness_. People like them were far from happiness. “The most _beautiful_.”

Snafu didn't get many compliments all that often. He did not blush. Neither he looked away bashfully. He continued to look at Eugene, practically expecting him to laugh at him. When the subway car stopped, Eugene held onto his arm, almost stepping on Snafu's sneakers. He doubted any more people would fit inside of the subway; it was _congested_. The air was heavy and there was a rancid smell of sweat of those that wanted to take their jackets and coats off and couldn't, sweating with regret of not walking back home or waiting for the next one.

None of that could reach them. Eugene was all he could see. He was all he cared about. He was no longer tired, irritated or _alone_. Snafu slipped his fingers under the sleeve of Eugene's parka and sweater, caressing the soft skin of his wrist. His other hand lowered over the handrail and rested over his.

Eugene kissed him; slow, delicate. Snafu didn't feel like they were in the train, anymore. When the boy kissed him like that, it was even like he was living a different life. Like he was still in touch with his cousins, like he had a wonderful and rewarding job, like his flat was bigger and in one of the nicest streets of the city. He felt like his name was another. Like his face and soul changed, as well. And he became someone far more likeable. Easier to love.

The redhead didn't keep his tongue behind his teeth. Snafu could feel it prodding against his lower lip before he opened them. People were looking at them. _And he didn't care_. Eugene was the closest he had to salvation. The boy barely knew him and Snafu was clinging onto him like he could keep him from falling deeper and deeper into that well of loneliness and self-hatred. Let him be the first step towards healing, towards the person he once was: terribly flawed but somehow happy. Somehow at ease with himself.

*** * ***

Eugene let him fuck him again and he didn't get it. How little dignity must he have left to make the same mistake once again. Snafu was well aware of the kind of person he was. There was malice flowing in his veins. He was selfish, rude and pretty damn insufferable. Those were just facts. And Eugene looked like a gentle spirit. Fuck, he looked like the kind of person that would go to church willingly, not even scared of a divine punishment. Just to honor and love.

He should let him go. Before this gets any messier. Before Eugene's boyfriend beats him up. Before he falls in love with the boy. Just anything before he gets in trouble. And yet, Snafu found himself smoking outside the grocery store with one of his coworkers. The only one that could still tolerate him. Must be the fact that he was young. Younger than his Lulu. Maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. No more than that. A young boy with a kind of spirit that was, apparently, in a relationship. He heard him whisper endearments ( _habibti_ , _omri_ , _albi_ to name a few) over the phone before.

“Hey, Almir?”

“Yeah?” he blinked, surprised. Like Snafu never spoke to anyone.

He actually _didn't_.

“You ever had a one-night stand,” _two_. Two-night stands. “and wanted it to become somethin' serious?”

“Huh... Yeah. Yes.” he nodded. “Why?”

“It's happenin'.” Snafu shrugged. Why would he ask, if not? “What did you do?” Surely he felt a little stupid and pathetic to be asking that to someone who was almost a decade younger than him. But it's not like he talked to anyone, anymore. Almir was convenient. And he didn't hate him enough to turn him down. His best choice, his only choice.

“Well... I told her about myself. So she could get to know me a little better.” maybe that was his current girlfriend.

“Is that necessary?”

“If you want them to fall in love with you, you'll have to let them see you as you are.”

Well, that was a big fucking risk. If he showed Eugene more about himself, the boy would run away from him. And he would be the one to blame. Not only that. He would have to accept that he was repulsive and miserable enough to make people even want to leave him behind.

Snafu threw the cigarette away and said: “If I don't show up tomorrow, you can assume your advice didn't help me much.”

“But if I do see you, I expect you to say thank you.” Almir grinned.

Snafu smiled back at him.

*** * ***

It would be the third night in a row. In any other situation, Snafu wouldn't mind. Not when Eugene blushed all the way down to his neck and asked him to thrust harder and faster. But he wanted something different. Something different than just that. It was a little complicated for him to pull back. Eugene's fingers were already tangled in his necklace, keeping him close to continue kissing him.

“I have a brother.” Snafu blurted out, suddenly. “ _Twin_ brother.”

Eugene blinked and looked at him, in silence. He probably didn't understand why he was telling him about his brother right now. A brother he didn't think about. A brother he hasn't seen for far too long. A brother he wouldn't want to have in his life, no matter what. But for some reason, Marcel came up.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.” he caressed Eugene's waist. “Haven't seen him since my mother's funeral.” Why the fuck did he even mention Marcel? Maybe he was the easiest way to talk about his family because he cared about him the least. Through his family maybe Eugene would learn more about him. “We were fourteen or so. He came with my father.” Ah, yet another person he did not care about. And dead. Or so he thought. He was not all that sure. “They were fuckin' _vampires_.”

Eugene didn't laugh. Snafu was not trying to be funny.

“Why?”

“They left us drained. Fuckin' exhausted, Eugene. Took the will to live away from us. It was a _talent_ , I'm sure.” Maybe he was talking about them because they were the bad guys through and through. If he spoke about his mother, Mamaw or his cousins, then maybe he would look like the asshole. Maybe he was aiming to gain sympathy points from Eugene. Trick him into thinking he was decent enough.

“They left after the funeral?” Eugene brushed his thumbs over the chain of his necklace before he moved his hands away, leaving them over his shoulders.

“My Maman divorced him when we were nine. It was _terrible_.” no one spoke about his father or Marcel ever again after they were gone. Only his mother, when she called to talk with her other son. It reached a point in which Marcel didn't pick the phone anymore. “It was him who had the money. And the power. Everythin'. But it was _her_ who didn't love him. So he destroyed her. Sold the house, didn't give her any money and moved with his _best_ son.”

Eugene licked his lips and looked down for a second. “That's sad, Merriell.”

“It was wise of her.” Snafu shook his head. He remembered those five years of his life as the happiest. Like they were allowed to breath. Too bad that her mother couldn't live any longer. She wouldn't have let him become this sad and distant person. Nor would have Mamaw. But both of them were gone and Snafu got _lost_. So utterly lost. He leaned his forehead against Eugene's temple, looking at his eyelids. Maybe Eugene didn't want to know anything about him. Maybe he wanted sex and that's about it.

 _Maybe, maybe, maybe_. Always thinking about possibilities, never being sure of anything. He could open his mouth and ask. But he was a coward. Too scared that he would lose that little piece of Eugene that he had.

After a very long pause, Eugene mumbled: “I had a dog.” and while that might have sound foolish, just like Snafu's _vampires_ , he was sure that he loved his pet far more than he ever managed to love his father or brother. “His name was Deacon.”

“Like the bassist?”

“Huh?” it took Eugene a second to understand what he was talking about. “Oh, no. No. My parents wouldn't let me listen to _that kind_ of music growing up.”

What kind of music? _Good_ music?

“I loved that dog more than anyone else in the world.” he smiled a little bit. “I cried like a child when he died. It felt that from there, it would only get worse and worse.” And for some reason, Eugene's eyes told him that his prophecy became true. Probably it just was the disenchantment of adult life.

Snafu caressed his cheek and Eugene leaned against his touch, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows. If he was right and he did have a boyfriend, he was not all that kind to him. Not when he accepted a small hint of affection like a treasure. Eugene reminded him of himself. Just as sad, just as alone, just as desperate. They were perfect for each other. They could pull each other out of that darkness. They wouldn't sink. He was sure. They would make it.

“Sometimes I feel like I could sleep for centuries, Merriell. Do you ever feel like that?” Eugene confessed and with the warmth of the poor light of his flat and after knowing that Eugene grew up loving a dog, he looked unbearably human and therefore, very vulnerable. “Just so I won't see what's going to happen tomorrow. Or next month. Or next year. I don't want to know.”

He could relate to that apathy. Wake up in the morning and have no ambition. Go to bed at night and pray for a curse to keep you from opening your eyes ever again. Death would be far more realistic than a magic spell.

“Yeah, I do.” Snafu nodded. He felt like he deflated inside. Just because he got to say it. Let someone know how tired and how empty he felt. He got to say it to say to someone who was as devastated.

Eugene rubbed his lips with his hand and closed his eyes. He sighed and Snafu could hear the heaviness of his soul. The boy must be going through pretty dark times. That's why he was in his house. What's another bad decision while going through Hell?

“Can I sleep here tonight? I'd like to wake up to something worth looking at.”

How could he say _no_ to that?

*** * ***

He woke up in the morning and the first thing he saw was Merriell. And strange as that was, he was happy. He felt happy for a little while. Then reality hit him hard. He had to leave. Eugene ran his fingers through his curls, tangled. He hasn't brushed them in far too long. No vanity and no sense of self-worth. He was convinced that Merriell was a tender man. Deep down, under the wide eyes and the uncomfortable silences. His fingers kept going down, from the back of his neck to his collarbones. He held the silver locket and Merriell's hands rested over his wrist. He was awake.

“My Maman's.” he answered the question he did not ask.

“She gave it to you before dying?” Eugene rested his head over the pillow once again.

Merriell nodded.

“It's beautiful.” he said as he felt his hand rest over his ribs. He caressed them with his thumb. He found it funny that Merriell could feel worried about his weight. The first time they had sex, two days ago, he even looked at him with pity. Something Eugene couldn't stomach.

Merriell kissed him and Eugene turned to lay on his back.

That morning they made love. And it was different. Eugene could feel Merriell's smile against his cheeks and neck. At some point he was pretty sure that he was smiling as well. He didn't let him walk out his flat after he kissed him three times by the door. He didn't know Merriell. Not really. But his very presence made him feel... better. About himself. About his situation. And he knew he shouldn't. This would only hurt him.

He walked back home as the Sun was raising. He was slow, taking his time. Smoking a cigarette and clearly not wanting to arrive. A cold prison, blue as it could be. Sometimes he wanted go back to Mobile, crawling and begging for his parents to take him back. But he knew the guilt would never let him do so. He had so much to atone, still.

Eugene walked inside of the building. He found the door of his flat open. His throat was tight and his stomach on fire. He was pretty happy that he refused having breakfast back at Merriell's. He would have to go straight to the bathroom if not. He took a deep breath and closed the door after him.

No matter how silent he was, he _always_ heard him.

“I see you spent the night out.”

Marcel Shelton was the most wicked person he ever met in his life. Vile, wrathful, _despicable_. A hideous abomination with no soul, remorse or compassion. A man without a heart. The biggest mistake Eugene ever made in his life.

“Yes.” Eugene replied, taking his parka off. He walked straight towards the kitchen.

Marcel stood up and followed him. Eugene already felt like a prey. It was quite an achievement that he could start to make some tea with steady hands.

“No.” he said, casually. “Not tea, _coffee_.”

And Eugene doubted. But he obeyed. He obeyed because he knew better. He left the teapot aside and brushed his hands over his trousers. He felt Marcel's eyes on him and he remembered the rules. He began to wash his hands.

“Where's the necklace?” he finally asked, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms.

“I don't have it.” his voice came out. Another achievement.

“You don't?” that pretense of patience and understanding made things even worse. “How come?”

“It's his mother's necklace. He is fond of it.”

And then silence once again. Marcel's silence was accusative. The soundless prelude of something terrible. Merriell's, on the other hand, was full of doubt and questions that died inside of his mouth. Eugene could tell he wanted to know plenty about him. He didn't know anymore if he wanted him to ask him questions. He wanted to be real to someone else. Not only... _this_. A caged bird.

“She was also _my_ mother.” Marcel's voice was a long and vibrating hiss. His jaw was pulled back. Eugene braced for impact.

Marcel was the very same height as Merriell and not any bulkier. But Eugene was severely underweight. Ever since Shelton came into his life, he couldn't eat and he couldn't sleep. He didn't have the energy to fight him back anymore. Nor the strength. Merriell was right. He was like a vampire. A vampire and an _illusionist_. He could lock you inside of a room and make the door disappear. He no longer knew how to escape this.

He winced when he fell over his back. Eugene squirmed but Marcel's hand was already on his chin, forcing him to look at him. He didn't want to. It made him _sick_. “She was m— Look at me!” he hissed. “She was _my_ mother, too.” Marcel's thumb was digging painfully against his jaw. Eugene tried to escape his grip but couldn't. So he only looked at him.

Marcel was so similar and yet so different from Merriell. They had the very same angular jawline, clean and hairless. The same pointy ears and straight nose. The same bags under their big eyes. The same olive skin. But then... While Merriell's eyes were tired and green, Marcel's were distant and grey. Merriell's hair was big and curly. Marcel already had the sides of his head shaved when he met him. And he would have never caught him wearing sweatpants or hoodies. He looked like Death. Like he made business out of the saddest things in life.

Which, he _did_.

This was the same man that killed his best friend out of jealousy. Marcel first seemed to be charming, _charismatic_. Offering them to make a lot of money and have thrilling lives. And even if neither Eugene or Sid needed the money, they wanted to be... _praised_. To be seen as a success after walking out of very sheltered lives. They were _stupid_. They were young and they got tricked. The only thing Marcel showed them was a world that was cruel, disgusting and that none of them liked. And then Marcel killed Sid and made him _disappear_. No body, no grave, no memory left for him to honor. Nothing but _guilt_.

Sid died because of him. Marcel let him know. _No one will ever stand between you and me_.

“She was my mother, too. And if I tell you to get his necklace, you _do_ it.” Marcel loved to pretend that Eugene was his slave. His puppet. That he would jump whenever he would ask him to. Either in place or from a building. He could make him do plenty of things, but he couldn't force him to _feel_ anything but utter hate and disgust for him.

Marcel was a proud man. He wanted to feel like he was needed. _In control_. He wanted Eugene to love him desperately. Perhaps as much as he loved Eugene, if such twisted feeling could be considered romantic in any sort of way. And that was the only reason that kept him from going the final distance. He wanted something from Eugene he would _never_ get. And Eugene knew. It was the only thing that kept him alive. That kept Marcel from killing him as well.

Even though... sometimes he wanted to die. And sometimes he wanted to _watch_ him die.

“You do it and you bring it to _me_.” Marcel continued. Eugene was not fighting anymore. He didn't want to end up with bruises on his wrists or his shoulders. He was tired of aching. It would take more than this to try to forgive himself for Sid's death, but God. He was so tired of hurting and suffering. Marcel licked his lips and this would get even _worse_. “What are you even trying to do to earn his trust, huh? Merry has always been a fucking moron. The dumbest fucking asshole out there.” Eugene didn't want him to talk like that about Merriell. Marcel's eyes grew darker with something poisonous. Something that could kill and destroy as it did before: _envy_. “You let him _fuck_ you?”

He didn't have the right to ask him _anything_. He didn't have the right to feel like he owned him. He didn't. Eugene was trapped, but he was not his master. He wasn't anything to him. If Marcel died, he wouldn't try to save him. Perhaps even feel happy as he would take his very last breath. And the way he looked at him, up and down, still on the floor, said _everything_. The hatred, the disgust, the need to survive him. Eugene found a smidge of courage left under his frail ribs, not as close to his heart as he would want it to be. A reaction that came from his guts, just like the repulsion he felt for the man above him. He closed his eyes and sighed, with a small and hollow smile: “That's not what you wanted me to do?”

Marcel reacted poorly and violently, as always, and dragged him to the bathroom. Eugene tried to fight him but _couldn't_.

*** * ***

“Here you are.” Almir said as soon as he saw Snafu wearing his blue vest.

The older man couldn't help but smirk. “ _Yeah_.”

“So it went well.” he insisted a little bit.

Snafu licked his lips and looked around. He didn't want him to see how happy he truly was. It was not like their relationship changed much. The only thing he discovered about Eugene was that he had a dog. He still didn't even know his surname. But he was happy. He was pretty damn hopeful, if you will.

“It went alright.” he finally nodded.

“More than alright.” Almir pointed at his neck.

The fading red mark of Eugene's teeth was still there. It would disappear soon enough. Sadly, the boy didn't bite hard enough. Snafu touched it with his hand and shrugged, now unable to hide how pleased and how smug he felt about that. “What? You goin' green, now?”

“I have a very cute girlfriend, thank you very much!” Almir snorted and shook his head.

As usual, it took only five minutes for their manager to come around and ruin their conversation. The guy was a complete asshole. Snafu was sure that he was compensating the fact he was balding soon with the little power this store offered over other employees. Almir rolled his eyes a little bit as he walked away, as a tired student would have with an overly annoying teacher. Before he resumed his work, Snafu placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“ _Thanks_.” it worked. His advice managed to make him feel closer to Eugene. Like they could become a something with time. And for that, he was _grateful_.

“That's cool, Snaf.” he beamed, bright.

In fact, Snafu felt so good with himself that day that he even wished a good day to a few costumers. Which was unlikely for him to say a single word other than what was strictly necessary. He also said goodbye to Almir when he left and pulled his phone out in his way to the subway. He brushed his thumb over the screen and unlocked it.

He wanted to talk, today. He wanted to talk to someone that cared about him. And right now, he only had to two options. He was sure that Lou would scold him. Let him know that he was an asshole for not calling. For not saying _anything_. Roe, on the other hand, has always been far easier to please. He barely got mad. But boy, when he did... Snafu grinned, remembering a couple of times that he has been screamed at by him.

Snafu called him. And curiously enough, Roe picked the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Roe.” Snafu drawled.

“Merriell.” he sounded surprised. “What is it?”

“Nothin', I'm just callin'.”

“Just because?”

“Just because.” yeah, this would be a little complicated. “I only watched to catch up. It's not too late, is it?” he was not talking about the time.

After a small pause, Roe spoke: “No, it's not. How are you doin'?”

“I'm alright.” he didn't know how to elaborate. He could feel good or bad, and he would always answer that. “You?”

“I'm okay.”

Of course he was okay. Roe made it far in life. He became a doctor and everything. That, to Snafu, was pure success. And not only that, then he moved to Europe and then came back. Now he was apparently with someone. Happy. He still wanted to check: “Lulu told me you were with a boy, now.”

“Have been for quite some time, yeah.” Roe commented, casually, to remind him that he should call more often. Snafu knew. And he would try. Only if hope sticks around. “Babe and I are doin' well.”

“Babe?”

“Long story, don't ask.”

“ _Mhmm_...” Snafu sounded amused.

“I guess that if you called me it's because you want to tell me somethin'.”

“Maybe I just wanna check on y—”

“Oh, _please_.”

Snafu sighed. He knew him all too well. “I just wanted to say... That I am _fine_. Honestly. I...” he licked his lower lip. “I've met a boy. His name is Eugene, too.” but Roe has never been Eugene, to him. How weird was to call a cousin by his surname? Well. That was the deal, Roe would not call him Merry and Snafu would have to call him Roe. The pact of two foolish teenagers. “He's beautiful and each time he smiles I feel like I could fuckin' die. Guess I am lucky he doesn't smile too often.” even if he would want him to smile more often. Fuck his heart if the boy was happy. “He a redhead.”

“Sounds like he is just _my_ type.” Roe deadpanned.

Snafu snorted and said: “Fuck you, you are taken.”

“What Babe doesn't know...” he could picture his cousin smiling. “Where did you meet him?”

“The subway. I'll probably see him again in a few minutes.”

“But you spoke to him, right?”

“I sure have. Fucked him too. _Three_ times.”

“A bit too much, thank you.”

While Snafu didn't ask Roe for tips on how to trick Eugene into loving him, his cousin seemed to feel like he was in the position to tell him what to do. That was simply tone himself down. Calm. Sweet. Gentle. As he _knew_ he could be. After the talk, he also warned him about the fact that as soon as he dared to call Lou, he would have to take the abuse and sit for forty minutes as she ripped him to pieces. That was their Lulu, _mean_ as she could be.

Before ending the call, Roe made him promise that he would stay in touch. Snafu said yes, a little rushed, not wanting to miss the train.

And, just like he has been doing for a few weeks, he waited for Eugene to show up. And when he did, it even hurt him to look at him. Eugene was pale and so utterly _exhausted_. Like he barely had the energy to drag his feet inside of the subway car. He barely smiled when he saw him and Snafu only removed his bag from the seat next to him when Eugene sat down by his side.

Eugene sighed and leaned against him. Snafu wrapped his arm around his shoulders, doubtfully. He caressed his arm and Eugene didn't say a word. That only made him worry even more. What if his boyfriend found out? What if this was the end?

“Are you okay?” Snafu asked, terrified of the answer.

Eugene nodded a little bit. “I'm just tired.”

Snafu pressed a kiss against the crown of his head. Eugene closed his eyes and reminded himself that he shouldn't cry over this. He left his hand over Snafu's knee and squeezed, affectionate and grateful.

“Why don't you tell me about your day?” Eugene asked.

“Eugene...”

“ _Please_?” he insisted a little bit. Anything to deflect the attention from himself.

Snafu didn't want to talk about himself. Not now, not ever. But now it felt like he would overlook a big problem. Eugene was not okay. Something happened to him. Something bad. He could see it in his eyes. He almost felt the need to undress him right there, just to make sure there were no bruises on him. But Eugene held both of his arms and squeezed, begging once again, but this time in silence.

“...I spoke with my cousin just now. I called him.” he felt selfish for saying that. “His name is Eugene, too.” he repeated for the second time, today.

“ _Oh_.” Eugene smiled _so_ small. Snafu raised his hand and cupped his cheek. Eugene's lower lip trembled a little bit before he pressed them into a tight line. “It's great... That you are talking to your family.” that was something he couldn't do anymore. “I'm happy. I'm so happy for you. Merriell, you deserve it, I'm so glad.”

Eugene's voice was breaking. And so was his spirit. Snafu could tell that he was about to burst into tears. His eyes were shiny and miserable. He wrapped his arm around Eugene once again and took advantage that the subway was about to reach a station. That was not Eugene's or Merriell's stop, but it would have to work either way.

The boy cried on his shoulder and Snafu comforted him in the best way that he could while people walked past them, some being unable to mind their own business and even turning their heads to witness such sad spectacle.

*** * ***

Eugene felt like he was the worst human being on the planet, at the moment.

Merriell only fell asleep when he thought that Eugene was calm and sleeping, as well. He knew how to pretend that. This has been the fourth time they had sex. The fourth time he went to Merriell's flat. He knew that it would be the last. Marcel left it quite clear. This wouldn't happen again. And if it did, the consequences would be terrible. Eugene didn't doubt that he would be capable to kill his twin. He obviously hated him. Maybe he didn't forgive the fact that his father took him away from his mother. He probably blamed it on Merriell.

Eugene only blamed himself. The need to be in someone's life as a real person once again was too great. Too big for him to fight it. When Merriell returned him the book —that he left behind on purpose—, he couldn't help but talk to him. He honestly thought he would feel repulsed by him because he looked like Marcel. But just the way he looked at him or how he talked made them so different. Merriell was the best son. The one with the kind heart. The one with the pure yet wounded spirit. At first it was nothing but the need to get that stupid necklace and disappear. But then they had sex. And it felt _good_. It was good and Merriell brought him so much pleasure.

It's been _years_ since the last time. While Marcel was cruel and hurt him, he never touched him in that way. Nor he even tried to kiss him. He wanted Eugene to want him. That would _never_ happen. Eugene was never told to have sex with Merriell. The only thing he was told was to get the necklace and give it back to Marcel. But it was good. It was good and he wanted Merriell to look at him like he was something. _Someone_. Someone that was not an extension of Marcel. Like he was someone that had no connection to the wicked Shelton. Merriell told him that he would see him the next day. Eugene's plan was to take the necklace while he slept and _run_. But that was no longer an option and he got see him again.

And he fucked him again and Eugene enjoyed it even _more_. It kept him from feeling alone. Or sad. It made him sigh and gasp and even, for a few minutes, pretend that Merriell was his boyfriend that he has been with for years. Maybe five, maybe seven. They already lived together in that small flat with the warm yellow lights. They had a pet. Either a cat or a dog. Merriell looked like he was a cat person. Eugene smiled and brushed Merriell's curls, as he was curled over himself. Yeah, a cat person for sure.

But he left and during the third night, Merriell spoke about Marcel. And he was right. About _everything_ that he said. To get to speak with someone who also knew and hated the man as much as Eugene did made him want to confess. Cry on Merriell's shoulder as he did, hours ago, maybe ask him, beg him, to help him to pull himself out of that nightmare. But he couldn't. Eugene listened to him and that necklace meant far too much for Merriell. He looked sad, lost, alone. Just like Eugene felt. He couldn't do that to him. He couldn't betray someone that managed to make him human in only a few nights after years of apathy. It was like he stopped being a ghost and now was a man, once again.

Merriell could make him feel like a living person again. And the saddest part was that if they had time, if they were in a different situation in which Marcel didn't even _exist_ , Eugene was sure that they would fall in love. Slowly, tenderly. Like they had decades ahead them. Eugene would heal Merriell's heart and Merriell would soothe his loneliness. He would love him until the very end. With no conditions and no limits. Love like he never got to experience before. He knew because he let him sleep with him and when he woke up and saw Merriell it was... It was beautiful. And hopeful. And they made love and it felt like he was someone different. Like the person he was before Sid died. Before he met Marcel.

Eugene sighed and held his knees against his chest. That morning they made love. It was _different_. Not only Eugene felt human, but he also felt like there was maybe a way out. But that ended soon enough as he saw Marcel inside of his flat, waiting for him.

As he coughed and fought to get some air in his lungs —that wet fabric clinging against his nose and mouth truly made it difficult—, Marcel gave him new instructions. _You go back and get me the necklace. You let him fuck you again, and you'll pay for it_. Well. Maybe he would kill him now. Because Eugene wanted to have sex one last time with the only person he cared about in the world. And he was not going to steal his necklace. His mother meant a lot to Merriell, it was clear. And if he had to die, if he finally had to go because Marcel understood he would never get anything from him, then... It was not so bad. Dying because he finally did something _right_. He could deal with that.

Anyway, he didn't have much more left to live for.

Eugene stood up and got dressed. He took a paper and a pen and wrote a simple: _Something came up, I didn't want to wake you up. I'll see you tomorrow. -Eugene._ And that was the first and only lie he told him. Anything else... he felt it or hide it. But he didn't lie. Or pretend. Eugene kissed Merriell's forehead and luckily, Merriell didn't wake up. He closed the door of the flat, as quietly as he could.

*** * ***

When Snafu read the note the next morning, he was sure that he would never see Eugene ever again. Maybe his boyfriend found out and he wanted to have one last night with him. Or maybe this was the last time he could do this without risking his relationship. He shouldn't worry. If that's the case, he should be okay with it. Accept the fact that this didn't last long, but at least happened. He got four nights and a morning with Eugene. It's far more than nothing.

Then why did he feel so devastated? Because he pictured this having a happy ending. With Snafu wanting to leave the city and convincing Eugene to go with him. They would go back to New Orleans. They would live there, together. For many years. They would begin a corny love story. And Snafu would feel happy until the very last of his days.

But he was really not _that_ lucky.

Back to real life.

He didn't speak with anyone. Not even to Almir. Snafu merely ignored him when the younger man tried to ask about Eugene. He probably understood what his silence meant because he eventually stopped asking.

Snafu took the subway, with his heart hammering against his throat and Eugene didn't show up. He was no longer there and he would never see him again. He really wanted to cry. But he didn't. He only looked down at his feet and crossed his arms tightly over his stomach. If his story had to start at this very moment, he would say: _I'm a poor motherfucker with no luck. That's the only thing you should know about me._

And no one would listen, watch or read, because who wants to experience such frustrating story? There's no reward in an ending with no resolution and the protagonist is not even that charismatic or mysterious to keep reading.

Snafu had to understand that no one cared about what happened today. And maybe he shouldn't, either. Eugene was in his life for a little time. This... _thing_ lasted from Monday to Saturday. Not too bad. More than one night. He forced himself to try to think that was a _success_.

But he felt defeated. He laid down on his couch, not wanting to go to his bed and smell Eugene's scent. He didn't want to go back to where Eugene left him. He looked at the TV that wasn't even on and could see his reflection over the black screen. They truly don't make them more pathetic than that. He was a loser, through and through. With little expectations about life. And now without his boy. _His Eugene_. Without his warmth and that red hair of his over his pillow. Without his pale arms holding onto him. Without that little smile of his after that got to see only a couple of times.

Snafu closed his eyes and had to open them right away when someone knocked at his door. Could that be...? He quickly stood up and ran towards the door. And he was so desperate and so focused on seeing Eugene, that he _only_ saw him, at first. Snafu exhaled and pulled him into a hug, burying his face on his neck, feeling his delicate frame under his arms. His sweet warmth and smell. The texture of that pale skin that looked almost sick with those blue hues that were always chasing him like his sadness.

Eugene was not holding him back. In fact, he was trembling. Why was he so scared? He would help him.

When he opened his eyes, he saw _him_. A face he could never forget, far too similar to his. It was like seeing yourself corrupted by cruelty and vice. Everything he could have become if it wasn't for his mother and grandmother. His twin smiled, the corner of his lips sharp as knives. “Hey there, Merry.” No one called him that anymore. Only Lou and she said it with childish sweetness, as the memory of better and far more innocent times. Marcel called him such to mark the difference he always insisted there was between them: the oldest got a tender nickname from their mother. He got _nothing_. Not even the fucking necklace. The truth was that Alma loved them just as much. But it was their father who took Marcel away and corrupted his mind and spirit. Made Marcel even worse than he was from the very beginning. _Both Shelton boys are cursed_ , Mamaw usually said, _comes in your father's blood. Keep yourself away from him, Merry_.

Marcel, on the other hand, was very close to their father when they were children. And he was mean. Very mean. Maman tried to soothe him, to hold him and calm him down, but he was a little beast wanting to do worse and worse, each time. Snafu would always remember what happened little before his parents got divorced. He remembered Lulu, who was barely four years old, wailing with her hand covered in blood and Marcel merely looking at her, without a hint of compassion. Later that evening, Marcel confessed his crime to his brother with a smile. _I threw her little fingers into the bayou. The knife as well. She truly thought we were playing a game until she started crying_.

No one ever found out. Snafu was unable to confess. The idea of only repeating those words made his stomach hurt. He tried once, and he remembered feeling sick enough to vomit before he could even tell their mother what his brother did. And then... Then he was gone and it was fine. They were safe.

If he did that to their Lulu, what wouldn't he do to Eugene now that he was a grown man, capable of the worst? He tried to pull Eugene closer to his and close the door. But Marcel didn't come alone. The man on the left was bigger than Eugene and Snafu combined. He kicked the door open and pushed Snafu against the wall. Eugene escaped from his reach and Marcel closed the door, calm as usual.

“What the fuck is this?!” Snafu hissed, trying to get that brute off him. No way he could win that fight. Those fists seemed to be made of steel. It was clear that it was him who knocked. Eugene's cheek was swollen and would start to bruise soon. He refused to do so himself. He tried to get to him but he was shoved back to the wall. “ _What the fuck is this?!_ ” he repeated, way loder, far angrier. Why did Eugene know Marcel? Why was he there with him?

“You throw two lonely rats in the same bucket and _this_ is what happens?” Marcel grinned, in the most disgusting way Snafu ever saw, with mockery and rage. He grabbed Eugene by the back of his neck and forced him to take a step forward and stand by his side. Now Snafu could understand why he as so tired. That's what Marcel caused in other people. _Fucking vampire_. “When I found out you were here, oh. I was fucking disgusted, Merry.” he licked his lips and shook his head. “You'll never understand. Knowing that you are alive it's like dealing with an _itch_. Always there. Bothering me. But then I discovered how miserable your life was and I thought: _maybe I won't have to do it._ _Maybe he'll be decent enough and he'll kill himself_.” Such terrible things to say to anyone. Snafu was not surprised. Neither affected by them. He knew Marcel was capable of that and worse. Way worse. “But you just... won't. What keeps you alive?” he gestured around him. Eugene was still trying to release himself, wincing here and there. Snafu tried to step forward just to go thrown back against the wall _so easily_. “This is fucking pathetic. You... thinking _this_ ” he forced Eugene to bow his head forward. “is somehow love or care or... anything other than fucking, is pathetic. It was me who sent him your way, you know?” Of course Marcel would play it like he assumed the risk that those two could end up in the bedroom. He didn't. And he was burning with jealousy. “It was all a lie. _Pretense_.”

Snafu blinked a couple of times. Pretense? What kind of pretense? If Marcel told him that he was Eugene's boyfriend, then he didn't know what he would do. But it couldn't be that. Not... Eugene would never be with someone like Marcel. No one should ever love someone like Marcel. Snafu looked at Eugene with big eyes and clear concern behind them. “...Eugene?”

Eugene took a few seconds to answer, but he wanted to be brave again. It felt good when he felt brave because Merriell made him think he had something left to fight for. “It was not a lie. What I did, I felt it. I wanted to do it an—” Eugene closed his eyes and mouth when he felt the cold steel against his throat. Of course Marcel would want to kill him with a knife. Would make everything far more _intimate_.

“Marcel!” Snafu almost got to reach those two, but that huge son of a bitch punched him right in the face and returned him back to his place. He hit him so damn hard that his head was spinning. “Marcel...” he began once again, weakly. “You crazy fuckin' bastard, stay away from him...”

“Give me the necklace.” Marcel's jaw was tense, pulled back. He was like a hound about to attack. He was about to do something stupid. He was willing to risk and sacrifice Eugene. The offense of letting his brother fuck him was too much for him to bear. To see he lost against the most pathetic version of himself was an _insult_. “Or Larkin himself will get it off you. I don't recommend that.”

Snafu remembered how he caught Eugene looking at back at him in the train when he played with his necklace. And then how he gripped it when they kissed it. And how he touched it when he woke up. It made sense. But he also fell asleep by his side twice, and the second time he could have just take it with him. And _fuck_. If Eugene said that he meant what he did, he was going to believe him. He would wouldn't doubt Eugene because of _Marcel_.

The threat of Marcel's knife on Eugene's neck was _real_. In the same way he could cut their cousin's fingers, he could cut Eugene's throat. Not only that. He would make it look like he was the one to blame. Marcel always got away with everything, because he was cleverer than Snafu has ever been. That necklace was the only memory he had of his mother. And it was like carrying her spirit with him. Like an invisible piece of her was trapped inside of the locket. The truth was that there were only two pictures: one of each of her children. Snafu never opened it. The weight of the silver was the only thing he needed.

But... Eugene was a living boy. His mother was only a memory. And she couldn't compete against flesh and those eyes that, sometimes, still have some hope left in them. He wouldn't be able to live with the fact that he got Eugene hurt in any sort of way. He would give him _everything_ that he had. This was no _exception_.

Snafu raised his hands, slowly, to keep Larkin from punching him again. The left side of his face was on fire. The man gave him some space to take his necklace off and extend it forward, towards Marcel. Eugene was begging for forgiveness with his eyes. Snafu was not mad at him. He felt that he couldn't feel mad at him. Even less with the very threat of death around his neck.

Marcel snatched it from Snafu's hand and put it over his own neck. “Thank you, very kind of you.” He wanted to force Marcel to drink acid and see if he had the _guts_ to be so funny about it.

“Now leave him alone. Get the fuck out. You got what you wanted.” he was in no position to demand anything, and yet he was willing to do anything to help Eugene.

“You see.” he pushed Eugene even closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders with that fucking knife still on his neck. “I always wanted to feel in this position. To know that I am taking someone you care about away from you. As you did with our mother.”

“I didn't do shit! I was fuckin' nine, Marcel!” how could he be blamed for a divorce? For his father wanting to play _The Parent Trap_? And for Marcel, himself, to stop picking the phone and refuse to speak with their mother? Snafu might be the one to blame for many things, but not _that_. “Just let him go, for fuck's sake. C'mon!”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell at him. Larkin was a fucking wall and no matter how hard he tried to fight, he couldn't move. Eugene was not even moving. There was pure resignation in him. Merriell already lost his necklace, so who care anymore? He was tired of being used, of this nightmare not ending. If Marcel wanted to kill him, very little would keep him from doing such. His lips against his ear almost made him wish for a quite and sharp move of his hand.

“Nothing would make me happier than bathing you in his blood, trust me.” there was not a single hint of kindness in him. There was no salvation possible for such a monster. “You are just lucky I want to keep him for _myself_.” What Eugene did with his brother would have to be purged. And he wouldn't stop until he would make sure that Eugene would literally beg for forgiveness.

He dragged Eugene out of the flat. Now he did fight. To stay with Merriell, not trusting what Larkin could do to him. Eugene screamed and kicked but there was no way he could do to stay there. Snafu tried to get past Larkin, but once again, _nothing_. The door slammed shut and they were gone. Larkin threw him at the floor and hit him until he couldn't feel it anymore.

**FIVE DAYS LATER**

When Snafu opened his eyes, he saw something _red_. A warm red. Maybe it was _orange_. He couldn't tell, everything was far too _bright_. But it was a dancing head, he was sure of that. His vision was blurry and his brain felt thick, like it didn't fit inside of his skull anymore. He tried to raise his hand but the weight of his limb was far too heavy for him.

“Eugene?” he could grunt. Oh, fuck, his jaw hurt too. And even more than his head. What the fuck was happening? Where was he?

“He's calling for you.” he heard.

Snafu closed his eyes and turned his head a little bit, huffing, in pain and uncomfortable. As he opened his eyes again, the orange was replaced by black. A face too pale to be Marcel.

“Merriell?” the weight of a hand on his shoulder: careful knowing where he shouldn't touch. “You are in the hospital, can you hear me?”

“Mhmm...” he hummed and licked his lips. His lips were dry and chapped. Snafu blinked a couple of times and could finally get used to the light. That was not the Eugene expected to find. “Where's _my_ Eugene?” he asked to his cousin.

“You were alone in your flat when your neighbor cal—”

“Red hair. Saw it.” he could barely articulate with his sore jaw, slurring the few words he spoke.

“That's not... That's not Eugene. This is Babe, Merriell.” Roe explained him things he didn't understand. That he didn't want to hear. But he was right. That was not his Eugene. Roe's boyfriend looked slightly similar to Eugene. But he wasn't him. The boy smiled apologetically at him and held his hands behind his back.

“Sorry.” Babe mumbled and shrugged one shoulder.

“Where is he?” Snafu insisted.

“We don't know.” Roe replied. “You were al—”

“It was Marcel.”

“What?”

“It was Marcel. He took my boy away...” it was complicated to talk. Keep his eyes open made him feel dizzy. “He was gonna kill him. With a knife.”

“I'm sorry, _what_?” this boy Babe would regret ever wanting to become part of their family as soon as he knew that the fucking devil was related to them.

“Marcel is his brother.”

“I was far more scandalized about the part of him trying to _kill someone with a knife_ , Gene.”

Roe didn't answer and rubbed his forehead. “Do you know where you t—”

“He's awake?” a femenine voice right after the door opened.

“Lulu...” Snafu turned his head a little bit, feelin nauseous yet once again. She closed the door and smiled briefly at him before she approached him. She held his hand and caressed his forearm, careful and delicate.

“You scared the shit out of us, Merry. I had to come all the way from New Orleans.” she whispered failing to sound angry or even upset. Snafu squeezed the three fingers left on her right hand. “Are you gonna tell us what happened?”

“He was speaking about Marcel.” Babe tried to be helpful. But truly, he _wasn't_.

They never spoke about Marcel around Lou. For _obvious_ reasons. Surely he didn't know about that. The girl still paled. Even Snafu could notice that. Her palms became a little moist. Snafu brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “ _Ah_.”

“I'm gonna find him.” Snafu mumbled.

“Marcel?” Lou gasped.

“ _Eugene_.”

“Who the _fuck_ is Eugene?”

Roe was the one in charge to explain her what happened during that last week. Or the very few things that he knew. It was not enough for her to understand why he was so invested in finding Eugene.

“Are you crazy? Or stupid? You wanna find him so _this_ will happen once again?” she was about to tear him apart. That's fine. Maybe he deserved it a little bit. “Merry, you were barely alive when they found you. And you want to go after that Eugene? After Marcel? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

She didn't understand. And she didn't _have_ to. This was not him wanting to play the _hero_. He only wanted to find that person that made him happy when nothing around him seemed to hold or offer any sort of joy. He wanted Eugene by his side. And he wanted to save him.

“I have to do it. I _love_ him.”

“Shut the fuck up, you've known him for less than a week!” she scolded him. Maybe she had a point there. But he didn't care, she never saw those eyes of his. How miserable and defeated he looked while having Marcel's knife right on his neck. He loved him and he would _do_ it.

“You'll need help.” Roe added.

“What?!” Lou gasped.

“Marcel won't be so easy to find. He might be a snake, but he is clever enough.”

“You are all crazy. He's out of his mind, he probably has a concussion!” but she could recognize the determination behind her cousins' eyes. “Babe, please, say _somethin_ ' clever.”

“I don't know, that Eugene looks like he could use some help...”

Lou raised her eyebrows and looked at him. They were all crazy. Absolutely insane. Was she the only one who thought that Eugene was now in the trunk of Marcel's car? Dead as he could be?

“You can go back home, Lulu.” Snafu sighed.

“And leave you all alone? And miss the chance to see Marcel get what he deserves?” Lou huffed and shook her head. “No, no fuckin' way. I'll call Robert. Tell him I'll be back in a few weeks. Let's get that fuckin' _bitch_.” He had now two fingers to answer to, an practically fatal beating, and apparently kidnapping Snafu's boyfriend. Or future boyfriend, with some luck.

Snafu quickly understood that things would have been far easier with his cousins being around from the very beginning. Larkin was still bigger than the three of them but there were plenty of hands there to stop suck a beast. And then, as Lou said, take Marcel _down_.

Maybe his story _finally_ started here. Now he had a purpose, an ambition, a way to redemption, a love story and people behind his back. And if Snafu had to narrate it with his own words, it would begin with a simple: _There's one thing you should know about me: I'm going to find Eugene and bring him back home with me_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That bitch Marcel better start running.


End file.
